Mirror Verse
by biscutpoo
Summary: AU. Sebastian's Last Stand.


Again, this is AU. I've gotten really interested in AU oneshots recently so I thought I'd give it a shot. This is just the first of a variety of oneshots I have planned, based off tons of different prompts and this is the shortest of them. I kinda wanted to publish the others first but their not done yet and I had this prepped so I thought...why not! Enjoy :)

Prompt: Mirror verse- what's good is bad, what's bad is good, opposite of canon reality.

So this AU world is one where Angels rule with authoritarian power and demons are the rebels that fight for equality. Loosely structured after the story of Lucifer in Milton's Paradise Lost.

Summary: Sebastian's Last Stand

* * *

_He dreams of a battlefield littered with corpses beneath a blood red moon. There are two figures embracing at the foot of a staircase that leads into the heavens. One of them is a handsome blond boy with wings sprouting from his back like an angel. Strapped to his belt is an angel's sword, gleaming blue. The other is a young girl with scarlet hair and dazzling green eyes. She is dancing, a disarmingly sweet smile on her face, as above her the clouds open and rain blood._

When Sebastian awakens, the sun is well past its zenith in the sky and his chest is on fire. Looking around he recognizes the familiar scene of the living room in his father's house, the only save haven remaining on the Earth. There is a man's figure by his side and when Sebastian makes to get up from his position on the couch, the man pushes him back down gently. There is a tenderness in his tone that counteracts the harshness of his words. "You're a reckless fool," says Valentine, his blond hair so white it looks silver in the fluorescent lighting.

"What happened?" Sebastian croaks, glancing down at the pale white bandages spotted with blood against his bare chest.

"An arrow, the Lightwood's son shot it if I'm not mistaken, you're lucky to be alive—if you had been anyone else—"

"But I'm not, and I'll be fine," Sebastian says, "A wound like this will heal in no time."

His father says nothing.

"Where are the others?" He asks.

Valentine's eyes harden, "Most of them are dead, we lost Jeremy Pontmercy in the first raid, Maryse ran him through."

Sebastian's face twists with grief.

"You should get some rest," His father says gently, "Regain your strength." He gets up from his chair and makes his way towards the kitchen where the secret door lies hidden. "I have to meet with some of the other rebels, but I'll be back soon."

Sebastian knows that his father can't see him, but nods anyways. There is a whooshing sound as the doorway opens and then everything is silent.

-000-

Two years prior:

When the apartment first materializes in New York City, Sebastian ignores his father's orders, dons a dark, nondescript, sweatshirt and steals away into the city.

The streets are full of bustling people and no one pays him any mind, but for Sebastian this is a welcome relief from weeks of hiding. He buys an apple, fresh, and bites into the red flesh, juicier and sweeter than anything he's had in a long time.

Despite the appearance of bustle, there is an underlying tension in the air. The people walk through the streets with their heads bowed and few dare to look upwards at the heavens.

Signs containing the commandments of Heaven are hung up all over the city and there are wanted posters with headshots of the Fallen, Heaven's term for rebels. Sebastian finds his father's picture staring morosely at him from one poster and draws his hood closer around himself to hide his face.

A sudden shudder runs through the crowd and startling, Sebastian sees why.

Prowling down the street dressed in black is a Shadowhunter. Half-human, half-angel, they were created by the angel, Raziel, as a race of secret police whose sole purpose was to ensure that Heaven's orders be carried out on Earth. They were the main enemies of the Resistance whose numbers included Fallen Shadowhunters and demons alike.

They were a warrior race, ruling over mundane humans, hunting demons relentlessly, and weeding the garden of anything that did not grow as it was told.

Sebastian flattens himself against an alley wall, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath fogging the chilly air with white clouds.

This Shadowhunter is blond, with the golden eyes of an angel, lean and deadly, like a coiled spring. The people part before him, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling in fear. A few drop to their knees in prayer and the Nephilim's eyes scour the crowds, searching.

When he finds what he is looking for, he springs into action so fast that Sebastian is surprised. The Nephilim grabs one of the humans off the street and drags her through the snow before dumping her unceremoniously at his feet. She cowers before him, her brown hair a wild mess around her face.

Even from this distance, Sebastian can hear the cool, lilting, cadences of the Nephilim's voice as it is carried by the wind to him. "Someone's been _very _naughty." There is a hint of an accent in the Angel boy's tone.

"I haven't," protests the woman, her eyes wide saucers. "I haven't done anything."

"Oh, but haven't you?" continues the Nephilim, his voice highly amused. He pulls a blade from his belt that gleams with a strange light. A Seraph blade, Sebastian thinks, an angel's blade made from the material of Heaven.

"You reek of demon," says the Nephilim, his eyes colder than the winter air. "And why would that be, perhaps?"

The woman is a sniveling mess. "I…I…"

"It is forbidden to summon a demon, forbidden to worship anything but God."

She prostrates herself before the Shadowhunter, her lips murmuring prayers. But, Sebastian realizes, they are not prayers to God, they are prayers to his mother.

"Great Mother, Lilith, give me guidance, Great Mother, give me strength." Her prayers incite Lilith's blood within him and Sebastian has to resist the urge to leap from his hiding place.

The Nephilim looks at the woman with undisguised disgust on his face. "Pathetic," he snarls and his fingers close around the dagger. "In the name of Azbogah, Angel of Judgment, I weigh thee and find thy soul lacking." At his words, the seraph blade in his hands explodes into life with blue light.

"Please!" the woman begs, her voice hysterical. "My child was dying of illness and when I asked for the guidance of angels they would not give it. They said it was my child's fate to die and that I was not to interfere. Lilith saved the child's life, that was the only reason I turned to her, I—"

"That makes no difference to me," says the Nephilim without mercy. "Thou art weighed in the balance and found lacking." And without another word, he slits her throat and looks down at the blood spreading across the snow as emotionlessly as he might an ant.

Sebastian slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out.

"So dramatic, Jace," a girl's voice calls. Both Sebastian and the blond Shadowhunter turn at the same time.

A young girl is walking down the street towards them. She is red-headed with green eyes and the air and stride of an angel's child although she is not dressed in the black of her kind.

The blond Shadowhunter, Jace, smiles and reaches out until she is in his arms. Then, right there, over the blood of the slaughtered human, they kiss.

That is the first time Sebastian sees his sister.

Afterwards he pushes his father until Valentine relents and tells him the history he shares with Clary and Jace:

"In a way, Jonathan is a brother to you. His mother and father were some of my closest followers. Stephen, his father, died in battle and his mother, Celine, committed suicide in her despair. Jonathan was born with an inordinate amount of Angel's blood within him. This made him more powerful than other Shadowhunters, gave him the speed and strength of Angels. This was before we rebelled and it was my hope that I could raise him to be a powerful warrior for our cause. Having one so intricately connected to the Angels on our side…but alas the Angels' blood within him was too powerful. He betrayed me and went to the Clave with my plans."

"And my…sister?"

"Clarissa…she was another of my attempts to create someone powerful enough to defy Heaven. When your mother, Jocelyn, discovered my plans to fight Heaven's authoritarian rule, she abandoned me and took our daughter with her. I never saw them again. In the end, you are all I have left, Jonathan, you are our last hope."

Afterwards, he takes the name "Sebastian" after the fist Shadowhunter he ever killed, so that he would not bear the same name as Jace.

-000-

They meet in battle a few months later, in the bloodshed that will come to be known as the Battle of Brocelind Plain. Valentine, who gathered forces for years, rallies his followers to make a strike on the capital of the Angel's stronghold, a city called Alicante, made of _adamas, _the glass of Heaven.

Sebastian is one of the best warriors in the battle. Having been born with the blood of demons within him. He swings the Morgenstern sword with little hesitation. _He is fighting for freedom. _Sebastian thinks, each time he cuts down an enemy Shadowhunter. _He is fighting for free will. _

A glint of light in the corner of his eye makes Sebastian spin around just in time to knock a seraph blade out of the air. Twin shadows streak from the churning sea of bodies. One of them is his sister, Clary. The other is Jace.

"Sebastian, am I right? _Valentine's _son."

He certainly looks like an angel, Sebastian thinks, with the same arrogance and the same beauty.

Jace is almost as fast as he is and their battle becomes a whirlwind of lights to anyone who is watching.

"You should give yourself up, big brother," taunts Jace in between blows. "You are of demon blood so your life cannot be spared, but it would be a noble thing to do…if you even know what 'noble' is."

"I will not serve," quotes Sebastian. Jace lips curls into a snarl and their dance continues.

Clarissa draws the runes of the Angels, runes more powerful than Sebastian has ever seen. Together their force is overwhelming, even for him. But although the Angels in heaven leave their dirty work to Nephilim, the rebel angels, the demons, fight with the Resistance. And Sebastian's mother, Lilith, comes to his side, trailing snakes behind her.

Jace loses all playfulness in his battling style and his face becomes serious. He draws a new seraph blade from his belt and whispers the name "Michael."

Lilith snarls. "Michael slew the demon, Sammael, whom I loved," she says, "Why is it, little Shadowhunter, that your angels are so cold and without mercy? Why do they break that which will not obey them?"

Jace takes Lilith and Sebastian finds himself blade to blade with Clary. It is surreal, their fight, and for the first time since everything, Sebastian feels torn. _They were related weren't they? Did that mean they need fight? _

The Angel's Children drive the rebels out of Idris and from then on, Sebastian has to hide even more so than before and Valentine's Circle deteriorates.

-000-

"Sebastian," It is Amatis, climbing down the stairs of the apartment. In her hands is a first aid kit.

Sebastian, sits up straighter, and winces in pain as the wound in his chest begins to flare, but already he can tell that the wound is almost healed. He'd fallen asleep without realizing it.

Amatis sits down by his side and gently begins the process of changing his bandages with her scarred and practiced hands. At one point, Amatis had been Luke's sister and one of the Nephilim, but she had turned.

"Is it wrong?" asks Sebastian in his one moment of weakness, "that I still love my sister? That I still hope she'll see the light?"

Amatis smiles gently. "Of course not," she says kindly, "I still hope every day that my brother will change his mind."

"I just can't help but think why—why would she support the angels? Can't she see the injustice of their rule? Destroying and punishing anything that won't obey them? How can she help to perpetuate that?"

Amatis looked thoughtfully at the wall. "I don't have an answer, Sebastian, why some people do what they do. But I believe that they think their cause is just."

"They are the light," says Sebastian, reciting something his father had once told him, "that blinds and rules; we are the shadows made to bow."

A whooshing sound announces the arrival of Valentine, his face grave.

"Father!"

Valentine turns to the two of them when he speaks. "I've made arrangements with the other rebels. We're striking once more, _tonight_."

-000-

And that how is Sebastian finds himself wandering the woods in darkness, his eyes straining for danger, having lost the others in the chaos of battle.

A sudden pain shears up his leg and Sebastian pitches to the ground in agony. A seraph blade has pierced his right thigh, severing muscle and maybe even chipping bone.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," a voice calls with the haughtiness of angels. Emerging from the forest is Jace, another blade held deftly in his hands and a smirk on his face. Behind him trails Clary, dressed in the black gear of all Shadowhunters. She is smiling, too, although it doesn't reach her eyes. And Sebastian is reminded of the image from his dream: a red moon, a corpse-strewn battlefield, and Clary laughing in a rain of blood.

Jace is armed to the teeth with weaponry, his eyes steely gold, as he stalks forwards looking amused.

Sebastian knows what Jace is going to do and is powerless to stop it. Instead, he looks at Clary, hoping she might spare him, trying to see anything of their father in her, in the way she stands, her posture, and finds nothing.

His black eyes meet Clary's green ones, searching for any hint of familial affection on her face. There is no mercy in her eyes. "Clary," begs Sebastian, "don't do this, I'm your brother."

"You're not my brother," she says coldly, leaning over him, "You're _nothing_ like me."

"It's over, _Jonathan_," snarls Jace with the air of a predator about to play with its food. "Valentine's dead and all the other Circle members have scattered. You're all alone."

Jace's words are like a blow to his stomach and Sebastian reels from the shock. "My father…is dead?"

"Very, _very, _dead," chirps Clary, "I know, because _I _ran him through."

If he held any hope left in his heart that Clary might respect their shared blood, it is gone now. "He was our father, Clary," croaks Sebastian. "How could you?"

"I told you," says Clary, impatiently, as if she were speaking to a young child. "He's no father to me."

"And Simon finished off your mother," adds Jace.

Sebastian swears that his heart skips a beat. _They wouldn't…they couldn't—_ "That's impossible," he whispers not wanting to believe it was true.

Jace seemed to enjoy seeing Sebastian crack. "Oh, its very possible. Lilith went _splat_," he says, demonstrating with his hands, "across the dimensions. It'll take years for her to reform into anything resembling her former self, if she even reforms at all."

The fight goes out of Sebastian and he lies limply against the ground, looking up at the roiling heavens, at Jace and Clary's towering forms.

"Why?" He asks in a broken voice. And his mother's words come back to him. _Why is it that your angels are so cold and without mercy? Why do they break that which will not obey them?_

"You know why," says Jace, studying the blade in his hand with a bored manner. "You wouldn't obey the mandate."

"I wanted _equality,_" explains Sebastian. "Why was that so bad?"

"This is what happens to those who don't obey," says Clary without a hint of sympathy. "This is for the sin of rebellion."

Sebastian closes his eyes in defeat, an image of the fiery sky burned into the back of his eyelids. "You won't ever win," he says, "even if you kill me now, even if you burn brighter than the sun, there will always be shadows in this world that will not bow to Heaven's light."

Jace raises the blade.


End file.
